Don’t even think of trying to slip past the baying mob at this Dubai outpost of the Paris super-club without a reservation. It’s not that they won’t let you in – they will, after looking you up and down a few times and making you stand like a plum behind the velvet rope – but to fit in amongst the Porsche-owners and posh frocks you’ll need to dress to the nines, and nobody wants to sweat on their Friday best. There’s a more staid restaurant section up the back serving sushi, Chinese and decent Thai food. But, bar-wise, if you actually want to have a conversation, sit in one of the sofa-filled ante-rooms that flank the entrance corridor; the volume in the warehouse-sized central room, with its super-high ceilings, is consistently turned up to 11. The décor is oriental-by-numbers, with the bar’s namesake deity presiding beatifically over the beautiful people and the Marina they overlook.